


snowforts and wine

by quakeriders



Series: feysand tumblr prompt fills [18]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Sharing a Bed, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders
Summary: Feyre knew this had been a bad idea. She shouldn’t have agreed, when Mor asked her to come along on their weekend trip to her family’s cabin.But, being the glutton for punishment she was, Feyre had accepted.Or: in which Feyre is crushing hard on Rhys and on a weekend trip there's not enough beds for everyone





	snowforts and wine

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not happy with this one, but lmao i posted this a while back and here we go!

Feyre knew this had been a bad idea.

She shouldn’t have agreed, when Mor asked her to come along on their weekend trip to her family’s cabin.

But, being the glutton for punishment she was, Feyre had accepted.

She had told herself over and over again, that she was going to get drunk on really expensive wine with Mor. Or to make childish jokes with Cassian. Or have vaguely terrifying conversations with Amren. Or even to have snowball fights with Azriel.

What she didn’t think about was what she would do with Rhysand.

Because her filthy mind seemed to be incapable of thinking about anything else when it came to Rhys.

She kept imagining how his lips would feel on hers. Or on her neck. Or her breasts.

She had been crushing on him for a while now. But after that one incident at the pool, she had been unable to think about anything else but the feeling of his calloused hands sliding up her waist and wrapping around her.

Gods, she was so fucked.

And as if Mor or the mother or the cauldron knew it and had a twisted sense of humour, they drew sticks for who would sleep in which bed.

The cabin was small; two bedrooms, a couch and one sleeping bag.

She offered to take the sleeping bag, but Mor had protested that she was a guest and if anyone had to sleep on the floor, they would let chance decide.

Cassian had ended up getting the floor. Azriel got the couch. Amren and Mor got the twin-sized beds in the second bedroom and Feyre, well Feyre ended up drawing the stick that put her into the master bedroom. With him.

Fuck.

She wasn’t sure if it was excitement that caused her cheeks to heat or embarrassment. Either way, she couldn’t bring herself to protest. At least, too much. She made a few comments about being the unluckiest girl in the world, that earned her snorts and chuckles from all of them.

But the thought of the sleeping arrangements were quickly pushed aside, when they went outside and spent the day running around in the knee-length snow, showering each other with snowballs that kept getting bigger and clumsier as the day went on.

With her cheeks flushed and her limbs half-frozen, Feyre had never felt happier.

They were laughing and rolling around the snow like children. Well, all of them except Amren. She had built a wall of snow that she hid behind. Every now and then she would stand up, barely tall enough for her head to peak behind the wall and throw a carefully aimed snowball at one of them.

The rest of them showed far less restraint. Cassian kept tackling everyone into the snow. Azriel disappeared and appeared as easily as a shadow in the night. Mor just kept howling as she tried to shove snow down their necks or pants.

And Rhys. Well, Rhys was probably just as tactical as Amren. He always seemed to have a cache of snowballs ready to go and after a while he and Azriel took down Cassian and buried his massive form underneath pounds and pounds of snow.

At that point, Mor had somehow managed to bring out a bottle of wine and she and Feyre had been sitting against a tree, taking turns sipping from it.

It warmed her enough to stay still in this frozen wonderland. And by the time, they trudged back into the cabin, starving and freezing, Feyre was deliciously tipsy.

To her surprise, it was Cassian who cooked them dinner. And it was amazing.

Mor kept up a steady supply of wine, but after Feyre stumbled on her way to the couch, she effectively cut herself off. She didn’t want to spend the night puking her guts up.

So, she sat sandwiched between a drunk Mor and a softly hissing Amren, because they had crowned Rhys and Azriel the winners of the snowball fight.

The guys were spread out on the floor, long legs stretched across the soft rugs and lazy grins on all their faces. Feyre was surprised to see that even Azriel looked utterly relaxed for once.

It was after midnight, when Mor’s head fell forward and she let out a snore so loud, she woke herself up.

“Okay, that’s it.” Cassian groaned, clapping Rhys on the back. “Time for bed.”

And just like that, they all got up and filed into their respective sleeping areas.

Cassian, just unrolled the sleeping back right where he lay and slipped into it. Azriel plopped onto the couch before Amren had managed to drag a stumbling Mor into their bedroom.

Which left Feyre with Rhys, standing in silence and avoiding looking at each other.

She took a deep breath and brushed past him into the room. The bed was big enough for them to sleep in it without touching. But she also knew that it would be torture nonetheless.

Feyre could feel the warmth radiating off his body, standing a few steps behind her.

“I can sleep on the ground.” Rhys finally offered, his voice uncharacteristically somber.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Feyre said and felt him move closer. He walked around her and then she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes.

There was a faint smirk on his lips and her stomach did a weird flip-flop at the sight of it.

“But Feyre darling, there’s only one bed.” If the midnight voice he used wasn’t indication enough, the suggestively arched eyebrow most definitely was.

She let out a little snort and poked him in the chest. “If you want to get me naked, Rhysand, you’ll have to convince me it’ll be worth my time.”

His pupils flared and that smirk turned into something wicked. “Well, that escalated quickly. I didn’t know you were _so_ eager for me to get you naked.”

Feyre snorted. But because she was in fact eager and the wine in her veins made her bold, she flattened the hand still on his chest and fixed him with a long, hard look. “I thought, maybe there’s more to you than just empty words and those bedroom eyes.”

“Is that a challenge?” He asked, his voice almost a growl, vibrating underneath her fingers and those violet eyes shimmering with something that made her blood boil.

“I don’t know, is it?” Feyre asked, even as that look sent shivers up and down her spine and she dug her nails into the hard flesh beneath her fingers.

Rhys let out a low hiss and then his hands were on her hips, sliding up to grip her waist. He pulled her off her feet and Feyre let out a small yelp as she was twisted and flopped onto the bed.

Rhys stood before her, looking at her like she might be a meal and Feyre gave him her best imitation of his cocky grin.

“Is that all you got?”

He pounced. Somehow, managing to press her into the mattress and spreading her legs to slid between them before Feyre even had a chance to exhale.

“I’m just getting started, darling.” His whispered against her lips and then he was kissing her and it felt better than anything Feyre had been able to dream up.


End file.
